Darts
by Nomadd
Summary: John comes home to find Sherlock doing something other than shooting his wall...


**A/N: **So this is just a short oneshot about Sherlock and John, set some time in series one. This has also been posted on AO3. Reviews are always appreciated. Enjoy! :)

* * *

John's arms were laden with shopping as he made his way across the road and to the front of his flat. Reaching into his pocket with some difficulty, he finally managed to removed his key and slide it into the lock. With a click the door opened and he bustled inside, shutting the door loudly with his foot.

"Sherlock!" John called above the racket of rustling bags, agitated and tired from his outing.

"Sherlock, I have _your_shopping here. Come and help me carry it!" He yelled, receiving no answer from his peculiar friend. He sighed in defeat and made his way carefully up the steps, one foot at a time.

Mrs Hudson shuffled past the top of the staircases and looked down at him, huffing loudly as she did. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you, he's having one of his moments…"

_THUD_

An abnormal noise came from within John's apartment, making Mrs Hudson flinch.

"What was that?" John question, wary of the outlandish answer he might well receive.

_THUD_

_THUD_

The same noise came twice more in the space of a few seconds. Mrs Hudson looked down at John, even more unhappy than before. "They took away his gun. Said they needed it for analysis or something."

John rose his eyebrows, shaking his head with confusion, "so?"

_THUD_

Mrs Hudson made a noise that lay somewhere between that of a kitten and a small child. "I don't know what possesses that man to do such things! I offered him a cup of tea and a biscuit but he threw them out the window. I said he should watch the television but he stood on the remote. I brought him the newspaper, but that only aggravated him even more! I can't believe I'm saying this, but he needs a murder John, and soon." She shook her head and continued to babble on about what Sherlock had managed to do to the flat since John had gone out shopping.

_THUD_

_THUD_

John's hands were beginning to ache from holding the shopping bags and his temper was rising. "Mrs Hudson!" He said sternly, cutting the woman off mid rant. "_What_ is Sherlock doing?"

_THUD_

"SHERLOCK, MY WALLS!" Mrs Hudson yelled, holding her hands up in displeasure. "He found a pack of darts, John! He's been throwing them about ever since you left!"

John laughed, shaking his head at the landlady. "Darts?"

"In my walls Doctor Watson! Sort him out will you, I don't want any more refurbishing bills to add to your rent…" she tutted at him, then turned and walked off down the hallway, muttering to herself again.

"M- MY RENT? THEIR HIS BLOODY DARTS!"

"AND MY WALL!" Mrs Hudson called back and slammed her door.

John jogged up the rest of the stairs as best he could and flung open the flat door, ducking just in time as another dart flew past his head and went clattering down the staircase behind him.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" He yelled, dropping the shopping bags in surprise.

"Oh good, you got food." Sherlock clapped his hands and jumped onto his chair, crouching down as he picked up yet another dart from the end of a long line perched on the coffee table.

"I'm only going to ask this once more Sherlock, so you better answer me; _w__hat __are you doing!__?"_ John hissed, slamming the apartment's door to reveal a whole lot more darts embedded in the back of it.

"I'm bored." Sherlock replied and threw another of the sharp objects.

_THUD_

John ducked out the way again, almost tripping over a shopping bag as he did. "_Sherlock!_ Will you stop it!"

Sherlock glared at John through dark eyelashes, "but I'm _bored._"

John sank down into a nearby chair, putting his head in his hands. "You do know I've only been going an hour, don't you…"

"Yes but an hour in your tiny head is like a week in mine." Sherlock stated blandly, picking up yet another dart.

"Oh, so is that why you run everywhere?" John rolled his eyes, snatching up the shopping and stormed into the kitchen to avoid actually getting hit by one of the darts flying around, kicking a glass jar full of pickled eggs and eyeballs as he did.

"It's quicker to run than walk, John."

_THUD_

John let out a growl of frustration and stormed back into the living room. He bundled up the darts and threw them into the bin. "WILL YOU STOP!"

Sherlock's previous glare deepened, making him look like some sort of absurd evil villain.

"Being bored isn't always bad, Sherlock. You know, you could cook, or read, or even play chess."

"What, against you? I would win in thirty seco- no, make that three minutes." Sherlock lifted a finger up to his chin in thought.

"Oh, and how would you do that?"

"Well, taking into consideration your brain capacity for working out each move and my reaction time to respond to each of those moves in turn… I would have you at checkmate in three, possibly even two, minutes."

It was Johns turn to glare at Sherlock. "So there defiantly haven't been _any_ murders lately?"

"Murders no, suicides and natural deaths yes. But then where's the fun in those?" Sherlock almost moaned, his face taking on the expression of a whinging child.

"Oh, _of course__._" John said sarcastically, "where _is_the fun in those..."


End file.
